Discretions of the Jedi
by Ticklesivory
Summary: Obidala. Another Padme and Dorme fic. Padme is convinced to go out on the town and discovers something quite disturbing which leads to an examination of herself and the Jedi. Very AU. AOTC time.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One**

"How late are you staying?"

Senator Padmé Amidala didn't bother looking up from the mound of work which grew every day. For several days now, she had worked into the wee hours of the night, still seemingly not able to get ahead. Research, proposals to read over, docudisks to review and sign, and meetings to attend, which resulted in further proposals and research. It was a never-ending cycle. She enjoyed her work, but realized it was beginning to wear on her nerves as well as her body.

"I just have a few more proposals to read and then I'm finished."

"Uh uh." Her assistant and bodyguard pronounced, reaching to collapse the datareader shut, automatically powering down the device.

"Dormé!" Padmé attempted to reopen it, but found her friend's hands planted firmly upon the lid.

"You haven't taken an evening off since...since never, Mi'Lady. It's time we went out and had some fun."

Padmé looked at her bodyguard with a skeptical eye. Dormé's idea of fun and hers were nowhere near the same thing. However, Padmé knew her friend was insisting only out of concern for her well-being and health, and it was touching, albeit a frightening thought.

"What do you have planned?" She asked, playing along, for the time-being. 

"I've heard about this place in the Upper Levels. Totally wizard."

"Wizard, huh?" Padmé's brow rose once more in light of Dormé's enthusiasm. The last time the young woman had been this excited about going out, it had cost Padmé nearly one-thousand credits in bail money.

"It's not a dance club, is it?" Not that Padmé was against dancing, it's just that she was bit tired this evening.

"No. No dancing." Dormé assured her.

"Sports bar? You know how much I detest those, and the men that frequent them." 

"No, it's not a recreational establishment...though I do hear some action may be involved."

The last of the bodyguard's statement was uttered between clenched teeth and Padmé couldn't discern the words, raising her suspicions even higher. 

"What was that?"

"Nothing important. It's a fairly new establishment that only elite citizens can attend. I've been dying to go, and if you don't accompany me, there's no way I'll get in."

Dormé's plea had begun to take onto a whining tone, which Padmé was not about to listen to. 

"Fine. Grab my cloak and help me put away these datapads."

Padmé's trepidation began to fade as they stepped off the public transport and approached the grand entrance to Coruscant's newest night spot: "Discretions" the marquee read in elegant script. Upon further inspection, the entire place was elegant.

Golden pillars graced the arched entryway, beautiful stained glass windows depicted exotic birds and breathtaking scenery from far away planets. Once through the doorway, their feet sunk into rich, red carpeting and unlike most clubs on Coruscant, instead of a protocol droid taking one's cloak and credits, an actual sentient being received her customers. A beautiful Twi'Lek with an equally lovely smile. 

"Welcome to Discretions. My name is Turlana. I will be your hostess for the evening. Allow me to take your cloaks." 

With a motion of her hand, a human male, quite attractive himself with dark curling hair and bright lilac eyes appeared through a door on the right, dressed in a clinging shimmersilk shirt of deep purple and matching trousers which were just as tight. He flashed a broad and bright smile as he took Padmé and Dormé's coats.

"I need to see your identifications, please and a credit chip."

Dormé smiled assuredly at Padmé, who returned a much more wary one. So far, so good, but when it came right down to it, she didn't trust Dormé. She loved her like a sister, but still, she didn't trust her.

Within just a few seconds, Turlana returned with both ladies' ID disks.

"Senator Amidala, we're so pleased to have your patronage this evening. I see this is your first time with us. Do you require orientation?"

Orientation? "Dormé?"

"I don't believe so." The young woman cut in. "I've done my research."

The blush that spread across Dormé's face struck fear in Padmé's heart. What had she just walked into?

"We would like to take advantage of the Gold Package."

The Twi'Lek smiled graciously. "Wise choice for a first-time visit. Please follow me."

Padmé reluctantly followed the hostess past the doors which the young man had entered, and they slowly made their way into a long, narrow room. 

"Please stand behind the red line."

Padmé and Dormé looked to the floor and stepped back into the designated area just in time to miss the sudden appearance of a column that swept across the mid section of the room, carrying along with it an array of clothing, mostly black in color.

"Sub or Dom?"

"Pardon me?" Padmé asked Turlana, who had turned her attention to Dormé.

Dormé, in turn looked to her employer, her eyes traveling from her toes to the top of her head.

"Dom. Definitely Dom." She answered the Twi'Lek's question with a mischievous grin.

"And yourself?"

"Neutral, please."

"As you wish."

Padmé watched with rising nervousness as the Discretions worker reached into the variety of clothing and withdrew one shining black bodysuit and one blue. She then reached up above and removed two cylinders, one marked with a D, the other and N. From inside, she withdrew a black, glitterstone studded mask, and a matching one from the other only it was blue.

"Dressing rooms are to your left ladies and don't forget your crop, Senator." 

Crop!?

The leather unisuit hugged Padmé's body like a second skin, and the attached boots were ridiculously platformed and high-heeled. Donning the mask, the young woman turned around to look at her reflection in the mirror and laughed outloud. 

In the private room across from her, Dormé struggled with her own attire. "Is everything all right?"

"I can't go out there looking like this! What if someone sees me?" 

"That's what the mask's for, Mi'Lady."

"This is crazy! Why do I let you talk me into things like this?" 

"Because you love me." The bodyguard answered immediately, poking her head out the sliding door and gazing at Padmé who had walked out. "I think you look great."

"I'm putting my own gown back on." Padmé suddenly blurted out, reaching around to undo the zipper.

"Don't you think you'd definitely be recognized then? There are probably senators in there, important business leaders, maybe even the Chancellor himself. You never know! Don't you think it'll be fun to try and figure out who all's here?"

Padmé didn't answer right away, but decided what harm could come from a costume party? She'll have a few drinks, listen to the music she could hear coming from inside, and stare at the customers, like Dormé had suggested. It might be fun after all.

"Very well, but you owe me one."

Another young man, this one blond and wearing a burgundy shimmersilk shirt appeared, smiling just as brightly. 

"Follow me, ladies."

The carpeting ended to be replaced by a luxurious marble floor of grays and purple with matching draperies hanging on the walls. Rich, dark woods made up the tables out in the open as well as in a variety of alcoves partially hidden by lilac tapestries. Down a couple of steps was a lower level, in its center an oval stage surrounded by matching drapes. Up above them hung crystal chandeliers. The conversations amongst the patrons was relaxed, as was the music. A soft romantic ballad played in the background, and Padmé had to admit to herself that it wasn't exactly what she was expecting.

After being shown a table that was located in the corner near the bar, their escort soon returned with a couple of drinks and a smile.

"Compliments of the management in view of your first visit."

Padmé lifted her glass and smiled at her companion. They clinked their drinks together in a toast and smiled. For once, it appeared that Dormé had chosen something that they both could enjoy, and for a moment, Padmé forgot about the leather that encased her body, the flexisteel crop she had placed upon the table, and the mask that disguised her features.

That is, until yet another beautiful Twi'Lek, this one with green skin, stepped onto the stage to make an announcement.

"Welcome to another exciting evening at Discretions, Coruscant's most exclusive pleasure club." 

"Pleasure club!" Padmé repeated as Dormé grinned shakily.

"For our first entertainment of the evening, by demand performance, the Madam at table three has commanded her sub to dance for us. Please show your appreciation for Number Twelve."

At that point, the previously stoic audience erupted into cheers and hollers, as a woman at table three dressed similar to Padmé, stood up, waving around a card with the number 12 on it, whooping and yelling louder than anyone in the crowd.

The curtains opened and out stepped a man dressed in Jedi robes, drawn in the middle and held fast by his crossed arms. His face was hidden by his drawn hood and Padmé leaned forward, suddenly more interested than she should've been, but at the same time, appalled. Surely, this wasn't a real Jedi. Surely, neither a Padawan nor a Master would submit themselves to such a situation or even be present in such an establishment.

The music crescendoed, the strobe lights flashed, and the robe dropped, revealing a man in his prime, muscular, well built, and stocky. It could be anybody, Padmé decided. Any human male in good physical condition. The bronze hair that reached shoulder level was not a give away, and the animal print mask he wore matched the g-string that hid his most prominent features.

The dancer moved erotically on the stage, much to the pleasure of the women and men who cheered him on from beneath the stage. He gyrated his hips, thrust his pelvis, and twirled and twisted in rhythm to the music. He was a good dancer, but Padmé was more interested in seeing his face. She had met most of the Jedi and still could not believe that this man was authentic.

That is, until the strobe lighting ceased and a single spotlight followed the man's movements as he literally crawled up center stage on his hands and knees, creeping along like the wild cat he was pretending to be. He brought his head up and met Padmé's gaze, and she gasped out a name, hoping and praying that she was wrong.

"Obi-Wan?"

The dance ended with a twisting leap and a slide upon his knees, with the stage going black and the crowd going wild. When the lights came back on, the Jedi was still in a kneeling position, and the woman who had displayed his number approached the stage with a smirk and a collar in her hand. To Padmé's amazement, Obi-Wan accepted the leather strap about his neck, which was clasped tightly and then attached to a long, thin chain. He followed the leather-dressed woman off the stage, his head bowed in a subservient manner, and together they left the stage and observing area, traveling to the rear of the room and through a wide double door.

"Where is she taking him?" Padmé leaned over to Dormé who shrugged her shoulders. "I thought you did your research!" The senator hissed. "Did you know that Obi-Wan was here?" 

"I..." Dormé stammered. "I knew some Jedi were here, but I had no idea he was. Honest, MiLady!"

"Is she taking him back there to...to..."

"One has to assume." Dormé answered quickly, saving her employer some embarrassment. "What's even more surprising is that she's a dom."

"I've been meaning to ask you about that." Padmé replied, crossing her arms in aggravation. "Exactly what does this gettup supposed to mean?"

"If I understand correctly," Dormé explained, "There are three roles to be played here. One is a submissive. Do you see everyone with white on?"

Padmé looked about the room. She saw males donning white leather vests, and females white leather bodysuits, much like hers. All of varying styles.

"A submissive does what the term says. They submit to someone else's authority. The other is a neutral, which is the role I'm playing. They can go either way. Sub, or dom. Dominants take control, boss their partner around. They're authoritative and take charge." 

"I'm bossy, huh?" Padmé teased, though she was still disturbed with what she had witnessed. "So, the woman, the dominant who took Obi-Wan away is taking him to perform sexual favors for her?"

"Not necessarily. She may make him lick her boots and that's all."

"That's ridiculous." Padmé spouted.

"It's an exercise of subservience and giving up control. Some people consider it therapeutic." Dormé argued.

"You think I need therapy? Is that why you dragged me here?"

"Sh!" Dormé attempted to quiet her friend, knowing that Padmé was losing her patience. Maybe it was time to come clean. "I brought you here because you've been quite impossible to live with lately. You've been on edge, very irritable, impatient, and yes, bossy."

Her admission, however, didn't seem to help the situation, as Padmé leaned forward, her brows furrowing dangerously. "You don't honestly believe that me slapping an animal collar around some poor man's throat and leading him about with a leash is going to make me happy, do you?"

"No. I don't think that's what you need." Dormé leaned forward, matching Padmé's posture.

"Then what is it I need? You seem to have all the answers."

"Sex."

There. She said it. One simple word for a complex problem.

Her employer's reaction was pretty much what Dormé had expected. Padmé sat across from her completely dumbfounded, her mouth having gaped open.

"You're incredible, and I'm leaving."

To her disappointment, Dormé knew that the senator had made up her mind, and she grabbed the crop from the table and followed Padmé out.

"Leaving so soon?" Turlana asked them as they made their appearance in the foyer, heading toward the dressing rooms.

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Padmé answered back as she walked, stopping abruptly and turning. "Tell me, the performer number twelve, has he been coming here long?"

"Oh yes. For several months, two or three nights a week. He's our most popular sub."

"Sub?"

"Yes. He is a submissive and will only be with a complete dominant." 

"Interesting." Padmé responded, although Dormé knew she was being completely sarcastic. "Tell me. If I wanted to reserve his time, how might I go about that?" 

"You simply pay the fee and submit your request." Turlana answered. "Be sure to arrive early though, right after opening time if that is your desire. Like I said, he is quite popular."

"Thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two **

Anakin Skywalker, teenage Padawan to Obi-Wan Kenobi waited patiently in their shared Temple apartment. He was supposed to be sleeping, but ever since he and his Master's return from Grafaar, and Obi-Wan's subsequent meeting with the Jedi Council, his Master had been acting strangely and staying out very late at night.

The nineteen-year-old Padawan couldn't quite put two and two together. The mission to Grafaar had not gone well. Often, Anakin disagreed with Obi-Wan's points of view and actions, and he knew he shouldn't have, but he started an argument with his Master, right in front of the Grafaar Court of Elders. In response, Obi-Wan had to verbally chastise him and apologize for his behavior, but what Anakin had pointed out, needed to be said. Wasn't he the Chosen One? Couldn't he see things through the Force that no other Jedi could? Why did his Master continually refuse to listen to his opinion on matters such as this?

It was frustrating.

As a result, the mission had become harrowing, barely coming to a successful completion. And the ride back to Coruscant….was silent and awkward.

The young man knew his relationship with his Master was strained, but it wasn't his fault. He was only trying to be helpful.

He hadn't really worried about his actions during the mission, since it wasn't the first time he had been outspoken in public. Obi-Wan usually came home, meditated for a while, and then everything was back to normal. 

However, this time, something had changed, and Anakin couldn't quite figure out what.

Since their return from Grafaar, Obi-Wan had been going out at night - several times a ten, not returning to their quarters until early the following morning. 

He never mentioned where he was going, just that he would be out for a while, followed by a series of commands for his Padawan's evening activity schedule.

Was Obi-Wan that upset with him? Or was he going through a mid-life crisis or something?

Anakin didn't know what to do. He wasn't really worried. His Master could take of himself, and what he did on his own time was his own business, but the silence was starting to bug him, as well as his curiosity becoming insatiable.

Where was Obi-Wan going nearly every night?

Ignoring this evening's assignment of study, meditation, and sleep, the young Padawan found himself once again waiting up for his Master, hoping that maybe tonight, Obi-Wan would tell him what he was up to.

The door to the apartment suddenly whisked open and the man himself appeared, hanging up his cloak and shedding his boots with haste, muttering something indiscernible beneath his breath.

Anakin remained quiet and still on the opposite side of the common room, hoping he wouldn't be noticed. His Master didn't appear to be in the best of moods, and perhaps tonight wasn't the best night to interfere.

However, when Obi-Wan spun toward the glowlight on the table next to the young man, Anakin's curiosity transformed into concern and he chose to speak up.

"Master? What happened to your face?" 

Across the older man's cheek was a whelp. An angry red mark that ran diagonally from his eye downward, disappearing into his beard.

"It's nothing." Obi-Wan replied, unclasping his utility belt and hanging it over his robe on a hook sunk into the wall. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed by now? It's nearly 0300 hours."

_I could ask you the same thing,_ Anakin wanted to say, but he bit back the reply. "Yes Master. I'm just…worried about you."

"Don't be." The reply was short and clipped as the older Jedi headed toward his bed suite, stopping unexpectedly and rotating around as if he forgot something.

"I'm sorry, Anakin. I'm all right. I'm following orders from the Jedi Council, and that's all you need to know. Everything will back to normal soon. Good night."

The smile that Obi-Wan had forced upon his face quickly vanished as soon as the older Jedi retreated to his bed chamber. He eased out of his tunics gingerly, highly aware of the accompanying marks across his back and buttocks, as well as the slight burn on the underside of his right testicle.

He would have to meditate on the significance of his experiences this evening, to try and understand what the Force had to teach him in all of this, but not tonight. Tonight, all he wanted was a long, hot shower, and a warm, soft bed.

Padmé listened to Senator Telfar's proposal with the outward appearance of extreme interest, but the truth was, she was being constantly distracted by the chronometer on the far wall that hung above the Sullust representative. Discretions would be opening soon and she hadn't made her reservation.

Would it be rude to excuse herself? Perhaps she could feign illness or claim her assistant was in need of her.

The problem was, Dormé was sitting right next to her, apparently content except for the growing awareness that her employer was up to something.

"Would the amendment be suitable to you, Senator Amidala?"

Like being caught daydreaming back when she was a student at Theed University, Padmé blushed, adapting quickly. She had read all of the proposals of the beautification project for the industrial district of Galactic City, being a member of the proposal committee, and she was all for it. Coruscant could use as much aesthetic improvement as it could afford

"Yes, that will be adequate, Senator." She replied, meeting the Sullustan's penetrating gaze, although her eyes immediately diverted once more back to the chrono. It was 1800. Discretions was now open. She was too late.

"If there isn't anything else, I will call an adjournment to this meeting. I thank you for your attendance." 

What Dormé deemed as quite uncharacteristic, she watched as Padme nearly bolted from the room, following Senator Amidala's hastened steps as the young woman left the conference room. 

As a fairly new member of the senate, Padmé understood the benefits of participating and listening to conversations amongst the senior senators. She was still young and had much to learn. However, more pressing matters apparently filled her mind and Dormé followed her back to her offices, and watched with growing interest as she retrieved a datachip from her desk.

"What's up?" 

Padmé ignored her question and proceeded to transmit a live holofeed. In just a few seconds the face of an attractive Twi'Lek female flickered to life upon Padmé's desk.

"Senator Amidala, it is a pleasure to see you again so soon. What may we do for you?"

"I wish to inquire about the schedule of one of your employees. Number twelve."

"Ah." The blue-skinned hostess leaned away from the transmitter, apparently checking her information. "Number twelve has already been reserved for the next two hours."

Dormé wasn't quite sure, but she could've sworn she heard a muttered curse pass the senator's lips.

"He is free from 20:00 on, but it is still early and his schedule always fills quickly." The Twi'Lek continued.

"I wish to reserve the rest of his evening hours then." Padmé's decision apparently surprised not only the club's hostess, but Dorme as well -- both of their faces wearing matching expressions.

"Very well, Senator. I have you scheduled from 20:00 to 02:00 hours. Will there be anything else?"

"Yes."

Dormé noticed another blush color the senator's cheeks as she leaned in toward the holofeed, lowering her voice substantially.

"If I don't wish to be recognized, is there any way else to disguise myself other than the mask I wore last evening? A way to disguise my voice?" 

"But of course." The Twi'Lek purred with a grin. "You will require the Silver Package. Everything will be prepared upon your arrival."

"Thank you." Padmé smiled sheepishly. "Senator Amidala out." 

The young woman spun slowly in her seat to confront her bodyguard, whose face looked exactly as she expected -- completely smug, with a hint of arrogance.

"I don't believe it!" Dormé began. "Six hours? You've reserved Master Kenobi's time for six hours? What are you planning on doing with him? If you need any advice, I've got plenty of ideas. Some of them involve chains, a gag, satin ties, and chocolate syrup…."

"It's nothing like that." Padmé defended. "I'm just curious as to why he's there. I'm just going to talk to him, and I didn't want any interruptions."

"Uh huh." 

Dormé's skepticism did not go unnoticed.

"Think what you will, but I am not the dominatrix type. I'm just going to speak with him. I'm worried about him."

"Worried about him? It seems to me he's a man who can take care of himself." 

"I'm sure he can." Padmé shot back, rising to gather her belongings and head toward the lift. "There's a lot of questions that need to be answered. We go way back, Obi-Wan and I. I've always considered him a friend, and friends should look out for one another."

"Like he was looking out for you in the gardens on Theed after Master Jinn's funeral?" 

"That was different, Dormé. He needed comforting, and I just happen to be the one there to offer it to him." 

"Mere coincidence, huh? Sure it was."

Padmé rolled her eyes at her assistant's flippant comment, even though she had oftened dreamed of the passionate kiss that she and Obi-Wan had shared. "We don't have that type of relationship."

The senator lowered her voice as they made their way to her private transport.

"We're just friends." She reaffirmed. 

Dormé nodded her head and smiled in a way that still poked fun at the senator's naivety.

Friends may be what the senator and Master Kenobi are now, but she sincerely doubted that's what they would be after tonight.

Padmé nervously entered Discretions, pulling the hood of her velvet cloak tightly about her face, hoping to conceal her features from any possible holoreporters that may be lurking about.

She was greeted with an enthusiastic smile and immediately escorted to the dressing room she and Dormé had visited the prior evening. 

Inside, she was given a similar garment, although this time it included a figure-flattering matching corsette, narrowing her already thin waist.

After Padmé dressed in the items, she steadied herself on the stiletto boots and walked back to the dressing rooms' entrance.

Before entering the establishment, the Twi'Lek handed her a black box, carved with intricate filigree designs. Padmé opened the lid to find a silver mask inside. It was plain in detail, shiny, and surrounded by red velvet. An Incog mask. She had heard of them but had never seen or worn one before. They were quite rare, with the ability to mold to one's face and change your features and voice to disguise the wearer beyond all recognition by even the closest companions.

Padmé reluctantly lifted the disguise, heaving a deep sigh. There was no telling what this was going to cost her. She hadn't even asked, but if she was going to find out why Obi-Wan was in an establishment such as this, and maybe help him leave it, it would be worth it.

Her suspicions were that possibly he was working undercover, or perhaps he was being blackmailed. Either way, now that she was aware of his activities, she was determined to talk some sense into him. Obi-Wan didn't belong in a place like this.

But then, neither did she.

With another sigh, the young woman lifted the mask to her face and held her breath as it slid into place.

It was quite a strange feeling as the liquid interior of the mask adhered to her skin, its cool, gel-like substance molding itself onto her face. 

When the thing finally settled, she opened her eyes and was escorted to a mirror. Padmé gasped as she beheld a reflection that looked nothing like her. Aside from her dark eyes, the only other resemblance was maybe her dark, long, curling mane, but she had worn it tonight in such a different fashion that no-one should recognize it.

Her face had taken on the appearance of a total stranger. Her nose was a bit wider and more pointed at the end, her eyebrows slightly higher, and her mouth more fuller. An attractive face overall, however, with much more cosmetics than she normally would wear.

"You look stunning, Senator." The Twi'Lek announced. "Are you ready to proceed?"

One more deep breath, and Padmé drew herself away from the mirror, nodded her head, and hesitantly entered the sultry atmosphere of the pleasure club.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three **

Padmé was just a bit early for her appointment and chose to get a drink at the bar and observe those who had gathered in Discretions this evening. Some wore disguises, and some bravely did not. The young senator took her tall, thin glass to the corner of the room and sipping it slowly, took the opportunity to see if she recognized anyone.

Several beings were gathered in the center of the space directly in front of the stage, some wearing the black costumes, and others, white. As far as she could tell, there were no neutral ones, such as Dormé had worn the night before. 

It appeared as if they were having a normal conversation until one of the scantily-clad workers sauntered by, and those wearing black proceeded to prompt and harass the poor woman. 

Padmé rolled her eyes. Most of the customers were in their upper ages or at least middle, seeming to be professionals from the Coruscant workforce, and they were all acting like a group of horny adolescents.

The young woman's gaze moved to the corner of the room, immediately skimming past a couple who appeared to be making out.

Padmé almost choked on her drink when she recognized a co-worker of hers. Senator Delphinia, the representative from Tryphor, who usually appeared to be of a serious manner, was currently kneeling in front of the same young man who had assisted Padmé in the foyer yesterday. The Discretions worker held a long crop and was smoothing its leather-looped tip down Senator Delphinia's bare back as she knelt upon the floor, her white bodysuit indicating she was a submissive.

Other patrons were hitting upon more workers, one who wore the uniform of a Jedi though Padmé didn't recognize her, and some were engaged in activities that she supposed were some form of foreplay. She wasn't sure because her shocked vision didn't dwell on them very long.

Padmé returned her empty flute to the bar and asked the attendant for the time, relieved, albeit rather nervous that it was now 20:00 hours. Time for her to go through the double doors to the right of the stage and to room twelve where she was told her submissive would be waiting for her.

It wasn't too late, she could leave now, but as she entertained the idea, Padmé saw a black-leather clad woman come through those doors, a smirk on her face, and a personalized laser whip in her hand.

Throughout the past half hour, Padmé had seen beings coming and going through those doors, but for some reason, she knew that this particular person had been with Obi-Wan, and it infuriated her. Surprised at her reaction, deciding to study upon it later, Padmé firmed her courage and passed by the older woman, glaring at her confident and demeaning smile and entered through the doors, the heels of her boots immediately sinking into deep carpeting.

The circular hallway weaved past several doors, all numbered in gold. Padmé's steps slowed as she counted upward, coming to a complete stop in front of the one marked number twelve. The door itself was made of a rich, dark wood -- a luxury on a world where no natural resources such as this existed.

It took a moment, but after going over her reasons for being here and justifying them to herself, Padmé brought up her hand to the access panel, the door immediately sliding open.

If she had taken the time to observe the room, the senator would've noticed the ornate teak canopy bed frame, the matching armoire standing next to a marble fireplace with an actual fire blazing in its hearth. She would have also noticed the variety of hooks and harnesses that hung about the room, as well as the variety of tools of the trade which hung from the walls.

However, Padmé saw none of these things. Her attention instead, was drawn to the man who was kneeling on a thick rug in front of the fire, his hands held behind his back, his chin dropped upon his chest, completely and totally nude.

Momentarily overcome by shock, it took Padmé a moment to recover, but slowly her legs cooperated and the heels of her boots clicked across the tile floor, her eyes staying focused upon the body which was proudly displayed before her.

Leg muscles strained by his position outlined their strength, as well as the ridges of his abdomen. Finely toned pectorals were dusted with just a slight amount of coppery hair, matching the rich color of his beard and the coarse hair that surrounded a long, thick penis.

Padmé had seen male nudity before, but nothing like this. It had been nearly seven years since she had taken a lover. Way back when she had attended Theed University. Palo, however, had been merely a boy, and his physique had been nothing like what she was seeing now. 

Her gaze studied Obi-Wan's form like a fine work of art as she moved about the room, missing the quick glance that he offered as Padmé moved behind him, hissing quietly when she noticed the evidence of markings upon his back. Raised markings that were more than likely caused by a laser whip.

Anger once again rolled within her and Padmé couldn't help but offer a comforting touch to the criss-crossing pattern on his skin. Obi-Wan flinched beneath her gentle touch.

Why would anyone want to do this? What pleasure could they possibly receive from torturing another being?

"Who did this to you?" 

Padmé was startled herself by the sound of her voice. It was deeper than her own and laced with a Coruscanti accent, similar to Obi-Wan's.

"My last Madam." Came the hesitant reply.

"Why?"

She couldn't help herself. The question slipped past her lips, causing Obi-Wan to immediately rise to his feet.

"Listen, " he said. "You're obviously new at this, as I've never seen you before. If you're not up to the task, I must ask you to leave. My duties here are specific and I must follow them." 

Although Padmé was initially surprised by his reply, she remembered what the Twi'Lek hostess had told her. Obi-Wan required experienced dominants, and would tolerate nothing less.

If she was going to be allowed his time and the opportunity to discover the answers she sought, it appeared she was going to have to play along. At least for the time-being.

"You did not have my permission to speak." She said in a low tone, her gaze meeting his with authority. "Back on your knees."

He hesitated, but slowly Obi-Wan lowered his body back down to the carpet.

Padmé watched him for a moment and then looked away to the tall, carved armoire standing next to the fireplace. She approached it and flung open the doors, holding in her gasp as she took in all of the gadgets and devices inside, obviously for her use.

Cuffs, straps, rope, chains, belts, ties, crops, whips, canes, dildos (some strap-on) of varying sizes, probes, and gags. She found though, she couldn't pick any of these things. It just wasn't in her nature.

As she was about to close the doors, however, Padmé spied a single item on the top shelf and smiled as she reached up to remove a large feather, its huge plume white in color, and very soft to the touch.

Before revealing her choice to Obi-Wan, she commanded him to lie on his stomach, only then turning around to approach him.

She started upon his feet, lightly whisking the delicate item across the soles, enjoying the shiver which her touch produced. His feet were calloused, probably from years of confinement in his boots, she figured.

The feather traced along strong ankle bones and then up along developed calf muscles, her eye noting a few scars, freckles, and fine hair. When she ran it slowly up his muscled thighs, Padmé smiled as another shiver passed over his body, producing goose flesh along the right side.

She moved the deliciously tortuous instrument to the other side, following the same pattern before moving to firm buttocks.

With a blush, Padmé noticed the bulge of testicles and could not resist a light flickering of the feather across them. Obi-Wan squirmed as she did so.

"Don't move." She commanded firmly, noticing his body stilling automatically.

The feather passed over rounded buttocks and across his lower back, up along his spine, and down across the ribcage. She took the time to lovingly pass it over each mark that the dominatrix before her had left before moving up onto his neck and arms, which were folded underneath his head.

Once reaching his forehead, she followed the same path downward again, paying extra attention to the genitals along her path.

When she finished, Obi-Wan's breathing was deep and slow, and Padmé smiled to herself. 

"You aren't asleep are you?" She asked. "I hope not."

"No, my mistress." Obi-Wan replied, his voice muffled by his hands and the rug beneath him. 

Mistress. She had done some research before she had come, though obviously not quite enough. There were two levels of dominatrix, that being Madam and the other Mistress. A Madam was severe, using instruments of pain to provoke pleasure, while a Mistress on the other hand, delivered gentle ministrations, bringing their lover to ecstasy with soft touches and exquisite, delicate torture.

"Do you have many Mistresses?" She asked the prone man.

"No."

"Why not?" Padmé asked as she moved to kneel behind him. 

His answer came slowly as if he hadn't quite decided upon it. "I suppose because I'm in a position of power, being a Jedi, and most customers feel the need to push me to my limits." 

"I see." Padmé replied, applying her tongue where the feather had been, enjoying the luxury of seeing the man once more shudder beneath her ministrations.

"Do not move." She repeated the command, as her kisses moved up along his calf muscles, and she toyed with the soft skin behind his knee.

Tender bites were placed upon his buttocks, and a swipe of tongue moved upward along his spine, but when Padmé reached Obi-Wan's neck, she could detect the slightest hint of fragrance. A woman's fragrance, and she curled her nose in disgust of the remembrance of the woman who had been here before her. 

"You require a bath." She spoke low in his ear, her tongue playing with the lobe.

"There's one through that door." He answered with a gesture of his head to the solid wood door at the back of the room.

"Go fill a bath for yourself. I'll be there momentarily."

Padmé rose to seat herself next to the fire as Obi-Wan obeyed, his back still to her when the door slid shut.

She was playing with fire. She realized that. The heat of it had already settled in her groin and her heart was attempting to jump through the leather which bound her chest, but she couldn't see any other way to find out what he was doing here.

Besides, he didn't realize who she was. What would be the harm in bringing him some pleasure? Especially in light of the fact that it appeared that most of his customers brought him nothing but pain.

By the time Padmé rose to go to the 'fresher, nearly an hour had elapsed. She had heard the water stop running quite a while ago, and then heard it run again, probably to rewarm it. She wasn't sure why she was hesitating. She had already made up her mind, but was finding difficulty in controlling her own reactions and emotions, quite surprised by the excitement of knowing what was waiting for her behind that door.

Padmé finally rose, shedding the high-heeled boots that were aching her feet and padded barefoot across the tiled floor, sliding the door open with her touch. 

Obi-Wan lay in the bath, his head propped against the ledge.

The 'fresher was as luxuriant as the rest of the establishment. Marble and wood comprised most of the furniture and amenities, with candles flickering in every corner and around the bath ledge. Padmé smiled when she realized Obi-Wan must have lit them himself.

She moved to the deep tub and reached to pick up a soft sea sponge, coating it with the fragrant liquid soap in the golden bottle beside it.

She started at his chest this time, rubbing in a circular motion. Obi-Wan was almost purring, his eyes shut, his head still thrown back.

She supposed he wasn't used to this type of treatment, although he seemed to be adjusting quite nicely.

That is, until she moved the sponge to his genitals and Obi-Wan jumped, as though he didn't trust her, or was expecting anything but a gentle touch. 

With his entire body cleansed of the evidence of his previous visitor, Padmé abandoned the sponge, placing it back on its golden container, and then ran her fingers lightly along his corded thighs.

His erection was now thick and full and bobbed upon the surface of the bubbling water. Padmé brought it into her grip and moved her hand slowly and firmly along its length.

Soon, Obi-Wan's hips began moving along with her motions and Padmé knew he was lost. Now was the time for a few more questions.

"You are a very beautiful man. Why do you come here?"

"I…" Obi-Wan stammered, obviously having trouble bringing his focus beyond the grip around his straining cock. "I enjoy it." He finally blurted out, hissing as Padmé slowed down her grip, adding some of the soap for lubrication.

"I don't believe that. Tell me the truth."

Hips rocked up out of the water to match her motions, his eyes squeezed shut as Obi-Wan obviously struggled to form words. "It's…..therapy." 

Padmé mulled over his answer. She still didn't believe him. It may be for some, but not for him. Her movements slowed dramatically. "Try again."

"Requirement….it's a requirement." He hissed between clenched teeth as Padmé's hand sped up incrementally.

It appeared to be the truth, although it didn't make any sense. Who was requiring him to come here? The Jedi? It seemed highly unlikely, but who else? Was he here on a mission? Or maybe he was being blackmailed after all. 

A grunt told her that he was getting close to coming, and Padmé slowed her actions, obviously frustrating Obi-Wan, although he quickly schooled his outward response, calming his facial expression with effort.

While she was trying to decide what to do next, the electronic vibration of the datacomm which Discretions had provided and was clipped to the bottom of her corset alerted her that their time was nearly up.

The hours sure had passed quickly, and she still didn't have all the answers she'd wanted.

Padmé glanced at the erection in her hand and noticed its dark and weeping state, easing away her touch, much to Obi-Wan's dismay. He had been so close to orgasm, and she was going to deny him of it. Maybe the next time, he would be more forthcoming with his answers.

She leaned forward and placed a tender kiss upon his mouth as his eyes fluttered open, noticing only a slight interference of the mask upon her senses.

"I shall leave you as you are. Do not touch yourself. I'll return tomorrow evening and we shall start again. Perhaps you will decide it would best to be more honest with me."

Obi-Wan's blue-gray eyes were dilated and stunned, his mouth agape as if he wanted to protest, but Padmé merely grinned, rose to exit room number twelve, grabbing her boots along the way, leaving a distraught and unfulfilled Jedi in her wake. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four **

Anakin pulled his sweat-soaked tunic over his head and threw it in the general direction of the growing pile of laundry in the corner of his bedroom, immediately regretting the action. He hissed as the ache of his sore muscles protested against the movement as he slowly made his way to the 'fresher, where a hot shower would hopefully ease the worse of his aches and pains.

Something was very wrong with his Master, even more so than before. An accumulation of loss of sleep or the final toll of all the beatings he had obviously been taking in the bars he'd been going to had damaged his brain. Whatever it was, the young Padawan had to find a way to put a stop to it, or he was going to be the first apprentice killed by his Master inside the Temple walls.

He should've known not to talk to the man when he woke this morning. Anakin could tell by the way Obi-Wan poured his chav that his Master was in a foul mood. If peace and serenity were evidence of the life of a Jedi, his Master had joined the Dark Side. He was the opposite of peaceful -- a scowl firmly planted on the man's face. And when they went to the training salle to spar, for a moment, the Padawan seriously believed he might lose his head.

Then came the drills. Calisthenics, acrobatics, balancing, and katas. Not just one set, but all of them filled his afternoon. However, the young man never complained, though his muscles certainly were, and they most would definitely would be by morning.

The hot spray offered momentary relief, but Anakin was determined to put an end to whatever Obi-Wan was involved in, whether ordered by the Council or not. His Master's late-night activities weren't only making the older man extremely irritable, but they were having a negative impact upon his training as well as the bond they shared, which wasn't very strong to begin with.

His mind made up, the young man got out of the shower, dressed and headed for the location of the one being whom he thought could help him. 

Dormé sat across from Senator Amidala in the Galactic Dining Hall, eagerly anticipating a detailed explanation of what had occurred the evening prior, when Padmé had returned to Discretions. She hadn't waited up for the senator, and their morning had been too hectic for casual conversation, so the young bodyguard had to be patient, although she was about to explode. 

"Well?" She prompted as soon as the droid waitress had left them alone.

"An interesting establishment. They have a delectable taste in wines."

Sporting a dangerous grin, Dormé raised her fork. "I swear, if you don't tell me." She waved the cutlery mockingly in front of Padmé's face.

"Fine." Padmé leaned over her meal, keeping her voice low-key. "I went in to see him, but I wasn't his first customer."

The information was punctuated by a stab of Padmé's fork into a boiled tuber upon her plate.

"Do you remember that woman who made Obi-Wan dance for everyone? She got there before me and apparently beat him with a laser whip." 

"Why?"

"I don't know! She gets her kicks from hurting people? Seeing someone writhe in agony turns her on? I have no idea!" Padmé explained, maliciously stabbing at yet another innocent vegetable.

"No, I mean why would he let someone do that to him?"

"That's what's bothering me." Padmé replied, laying aside her utensil and settling her chin against her palm. "Why would Obi-Wan allow someone to abuse him like that?"

Dormé played with her own food for several seconds, suffering from the same apparent loss of appetite. "Maybe he doesn't have a choice. Maybe, like you said, he's being coerced into doing this." 

"That's what I think." The senator agreed. "He told me, after some mild persuasion, he was at Discretions because he was required to be."

"A mission?" Dormé asked, her head immediately filled with thoughts of adventure. 

"It's what I'm beginning to think."

"If he's on a mission, then perhaps you shouldn't be there, Mi'Lady. It may be dangerous. What if he's after a criminal who's hiding out at Discretions, disguised as a submissive pleasure worker. Or even worse, one of those crazy dominants?"

"Thanks a lot!" Padmé teased, turning serious once more. "If he is there on a mission, I really feel I need to be there. I have to help him. I know he wouldn't like it, but he doesn't really know it's me, does he?"

Dormé contemplated Padmé's argument and found it fairly flimsy. There was obviously something the senator wasn't telling her. "I seriously doubt that Master Kenobi requires your assistance in this matter, Mi'Lady." 

Padmé once again picked up her fork, pushing around the food on her plate, a light pink blush coloring her face. "I enjoy his company, Dormé, and this is one way I can have it without any repercussions. What else am I supposed to do? Sit home every night alone? You're always busy with some new conquest. Besides, it's been a long time since I've been with a man." 

The admission cost her a great deal. Dormé could tell by the way Padmé's voice had softened and her cheeks had reddened. It was true that she often left the senator alone at night, but she thought Padmé had plenty of work to keep her busy. She had never dreamed the young woman could be suffering from loneliness. 

Despite the fact that Dormé still believed Padmé was going about this the wrong way, and it was going to come around and more than likely bite her in the ass, the bodyguard acquiesced for the time-being. However, as the evening wore on, the more her worries grew, until she had convinced herself that as the senator's personal bodyguard and protector, she had to find out if Master Kenobi was at Discretions by his own choice, or if he was there on a mission, and there was only one way to find out.

After ensuring that his own Master had left the Temple for the evening, Anakin ventured down to the main lobby in search of another -- Master Yoda. Late afternoons, the wizened, ancient Master was typically training the younglings, and it was there that Anakin headed. 

However, as he neared the training room, Yoda appeared, the kindly, green gaze caught between Anakin and another who had just entered the Lobby. When Anakin turned his head to see what had caught the Master's attention, he discovered a beautiful creature with long, dark braids and matching dark eyes that were set in an attractive face. The dark purple and black gown she wore was narrow at the waist, fitting snugly to her trim figure, and accentuating a full bust and elegant neck.

For a moment, Anakin had forgotten what he had come down for, but then the object of his appreciation moved in the direction he had been heading, and the young man matched the speed of the visitor's stride, finding himself eventually standing next to her, addressing Master Yoda at the same time.

"I'm sorry." She interrupted. "My name is Dormé. I'm the personal assistant of Senator Padmé Amidala. I have a concern regarding the senator's safety and I need to speak with Master Yoda." 

Her eyes held him transfixed, but the Padawan finally stuttered forth a reply. "I...I have a pressing matter to discuss with Master Yoda myself, but please, be my guest."

"Oh no, I'm sure that matters of the Jedi are much more important. My situation can wait."

"But you're a civilian, a visitor in the Temple. I'm sure that you..."

The polite pleasantries being passed between the two young people were interrupted by a cough and clearing of a voice, which drew Anakin and Dormé's eyes downward to Yoda, who wore an almost comical expression.

"Perhaps, discuss this matter elsewhere, we should."

Exchanging hesitant glances, the couple followed the slow, halting steps of the diminutive Master, who took them into the empty Star Room.

Standing and facing the elder Jedi, Anakin motioned for Dormé to precede him in the conversation, curious as to what they had in common.

"The senator has recently come into contact with Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi in a situation that has become...highly suspect. As her personal bodyguard, I am requesting the assurance that her life is not in danger."

Yoda listened intently to the young woman's request and then turned his focus upon Anakin, who drew his gaze away from their guest rather hesitantly.

"I'm not sure where my Master has been going, but Master Yoda, his behavior has become quite...uncharacteristic. He mentioned following orders from the Council. I'm concerned. His quick temper and irritability are not typical for him - or any Jedi for that matter."

The two young people waited as Master Yoda hummed softly to himself before speaking. "Your question, Miss Dormé, answer it I cannot. To the situation, Master Kenobi has placed himself in, I do not know. Only under a Council's suggestion, is he acting. For the improvement of himself and your training, Padawan Skywalker." Yoda added, gazing intently to the taller youth. "Disturbing it is you inform me that instead of his therapy helping, it is harming your relationship with your Master. Meditate and speak to Master Kenobi about this, I will."

Self-examinations had been part of Obi-Wan's daily routine ever since beginning his assignment at Discretions.

What had he learned that could help him have a stronger bond with his apprentice? Yoda had mentioned Obi-Wan's hesitance in accepting Anakin as his Padawan, even going so far as insinuating that Qui-Gon's coolness may have influenced Obi-Wan's abilities to nurture a bond to its potential. Anakin's future was clouded, and he and Obi-Wan had not been brought together by the Force like Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had been. If Anakin was going to succeed in becoming a Jedi, Obi-Wan had to change everything he knew about being a Master. He had to achieve a level of closeness and trust with the boy that he had not shared with Qui-Gon.

One way was to share in some of Anakin's life experiences; specifically, those as a slave. Obi-Wan must give up his freedom, be completely under the control of another being, so that he could relate to Anakin on a more personal level and strengthen their bond.

At least that's what Yoda had insinuated.

However, the choice of what to do concerning that advice had been completely Obi-Wan's decision, and he thought he had made the correct one.

That is, until last night.

Submitting to one's authority takes a substantial amount of trust. Trust in the Force as well as in oneself. Surely, Anakin had undergone similar circumstances as a slave on Tatooine, although they hadn't really discussed it.

Obi-Wan also imagined that as a slave, the boy had undergone at least some of the torture that he had had to endure so far. The boy had mentioned being owned by a Hutt before Qui-Gon had discovered him. The Hutts were ruthless and Obi-Wan had no doubt Anakin's childhood was scarred with memories of undergoing similar types of treatment.

Obi-Wan could endure the pain. He could learn from it, and one day, could use it to grow closer to his Padawan. However, it was this unresolved longing that had kept Obi-Wan awake all night, and made him so edgy during the day.

Who had that woman been? He hadn't recognized her voice, even though it probably wasn't her own. It, along with her face had been disguised. But it wasn't her face or her voice that had intrigued him. It had been her touch. Her slow, gentle, and soothing touch. The touch of a bondmate. It had crept over his skin, sunken into it and made its way to his heart. He had never experienced such exquisite pleasure before in his life. Or frustration.

All day, Obi-Wan had been annoyed with the fact that he didn't know who she was, and possibly may never. His only hope was that she would return. She said she would. Perhaps, she would keep coming back, and then...

What? What was he expecting? For her to reveal her identity? And if she did, then what? They would live happily ever after?

Wake up to reality, Kenobi. She was probably just like the rest. A lonely woman out looking for a good time, a bit of passion, and an anonymous encounter.

If so, then why couldn't he get rid of sensation of her lips upon his skin? The ghosting of her fingertips along his spine, her warm breath upon his ear?

Obi-Wan finished his preparations for the evening's activities, the typical flutter appearing his stomach that accompanied the wonder of what would occur tonight. Would it be an evening of pain or pleasure?

Taking his place upon the rug in front of the fireplace, Obi-Wan observed the cleaning droid make the final tucks upon the bedspread before it spun through the doorway. In nervous anticipation, he adjusted the velvet cloth that snugged against his genitals and glanced up at the chrono. Opening time. Soon, his questions would be answered.

As usual, within just a few minutes, he noticed a shadow appear underneath his door and his heart thudded dramatically in his chest. Who stood on the other side? The Mistress with the gentle touch? Or a Madam who would test his tolerance?

The door slid open and Obi-Wan let out his breath, immediately drawing his features away, lowering his head to hide his disappointment.

With his peripheral vision, he could see the glowing blue tip of a laser whip as it swept across the tile floor, and shuddered as a long fingernail scraped across his back.

"Good evening my lover." The cool voice purred in his ear. "I've brought some new toys tonight, which I know you'll enjoy. Stand up and let's get you strapped in, shall we?"

Obi-Wan was slow in rising, and as a response received the first of many cracks of the whip across his lower back. He hissed with pain and annoyance. Even though he knew allowing his disappointment to affect his attitude was going to result in a long, painful evening, Obi-Wan found he couldn't hide it.

Where was she? 


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

With third meal finished and cleaned up, Dormé lay sprawled on the couch, one eye on the chronometer, one eye on the senator. It was getting late, and Padmé had barely glanced up from her desk. 

Finally, curiosity got the best of her.

"Aren't you going to Discretions this evening? I thought you were worried about Master Kenobi."

"I was planning on it." The senator replied without bringing her head up from the datapad she was currently using. "But the Chancellor requested that I get some research done this evening. He's making a proposal for a new subcommittee tomorrow he wants me to organize. I've just got too much work to do."

"That stinks." The young woman replied, swinging her legs over the arm of the sofa when she suddenly bolted back upright, a bright idea lightening her mood. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go out for the evening."

"Very well." Padmé replied distractedly, using a stylus on another pad to make notes.

Dormé watched the senator for a while, making sure she was engrossed in her work before slipping away from the common room. But she remembered something just before entering the bed chamber, spinning around to inform Padmé of her findings.

"I spoke with Master Yoda today." 

"That's nice."

"I asked him about Master Kenobi." Still, the senator did not look up. "He told me Obi-Wan is there on his own recognizance. Apparently, there is no mission."

With the bodyguards' final words, Padmé's head came up slowly, her features transforming in rapid succession from relief to disappointment.

"That's good to hear." She lied. Dormé could always tell when Padmé wasn't telling the truth.

"I'm going to go get ready then." Dormé paused for a moment as her employer's eyes drifted away from her desk and out the windows. 

They would have to talk more about this later. In the meanwhile, she had to prepare for her evening out, filled with confidence and determined to execute her plan.

Confident was not what the senator was feeling, however. No mission? He was there by his own choice? Why? What would possess Obi-Wan to go there? Purely for enjoyment? He honestly didn't seem the type to pursue that type of activity. Maybe she didn't know him so well after all. And maybe she didn't want to.

Padmé pushed her chair away from the desk and wandered over to the wall of windows that allowed a full view of the Coruscant traffic lanes.

Who was she to judge? She had gone there herself, coerced by her bodyguard, but still, she had gone, and not only that -- she had returned. She had returned with the full intention of speaking to him, although conversation ended up being the last thing on her mind.

Obi-Wan's body was exquisite and she had enjoyed touching him, would enjoy doing so again. If it weren't for the Chancellor's request, she would be there right now. Did knowing he wasn't there on Jedi business make a difference?

There were a lot of questions to be answered and a lot of confusion in her mind to get rid of before she went back there, Padmé decided.

Dormé shuffled through the senator's wardrobe, looking for something she could borrow for an evening out. It had to be something attractive, something...tempting. Dormé giggled softly with the thoughts of going out tonight. With Anakin Skywalker.

She had noticed his smiles meant for her, the way his eyes kept straying to her face, and remembering those glances and the charming way his mouth eased up only one corner even now made her insides bubble.

With his Master out and about for the night, surely the Padawan could go out for the night as well, but where to? It had to be someplace special, and someplace he couldn't turn down. Not that he would turn down a chance to be in her company.

Another giggle escaped Dormé as her initial idea was eclipsed with yet another. A much better one. 

Grabbing the telecomm off Padmé's dresser, she contacted the Jedi Temple, requesting Anakin's code.

"Padawan Skywalker."

"Anakin? This is Dormé. I just had the greatest idea. You're still worried about your Master, right? How would you like to accompany me the place where he's working?" 

"I thought you said this place was exclusive." Anakin tugged on Dormé's sleeve as they approached the grand entry to Discretions.

"It is." 

"Then how are we going to get in?"

"Stop worrying." The young woman turned to assure her date, stepping closer to him and smiling warmly. "I've got everything under control."

The young man was momentarily distracted by the warmth of her dark gaze, amazed at how her eyes glittered, and that she was looking at him this way. But even as Anakin felt his joints beginning to melt, his peripheral vision detected the movement of her hand, as she removed something from her heavy cloak. Something silver.

"Come on."

Following Dormé into the foyer, the Padawan observed the transformation of the young woman's face as she donned the mask that she had brought with her. 

Following its placement, everything about her facial appearance changed. He was disappointed, especially when she spoke and her voice was different as well, but her eyes remained the same and he focused upon them when Dormé smiled and took his hand, leading him inside.

"Welcome, Senator Amidala." The hostess met the couple almost as soon as they entered, ignoring the other patrons who filled the lobby. "I see you've taken my advice and dressed before coming. A wise decision for protecting your privacy. And I see you've brought a date with you."

"This is Padawan Skywalker. He will accompany me for the evening." 

"Very well." The hostess replied. "I noticed that you made no reservations. Are you here just to enjoy the entertainment?"

"Yes." Dormé replied, taking Anakin's arm. "We would like a booth close to the bar." 

Dormé hadn't thought about it before, but it was a weekend night at Discretions, and the crowd who had gathered seemed much more...comfortable. Several couples they passed on the way to the bar were engaged in what she would call the beginnings of foreplay. Some were dressed in the costumes of the dominants and submissives, and others were in regular clothing of Coruscant citizens, but all of them were making out and fondling each other as well as passers-by. The young woman didn't miss the fact that Anakin had moved her to the other side of him away from the majority of the groping hands, either for her protection, or his enjoyment. She wasn't sure which.

Finally, taking their seats in the secluded corner, Dormé blushed when she looked to the stage where a demonstration was taking place. A dominant female dressed in an outfit similar to hers, but much more revealing -- her mid drift completely exposed and the narrow strip of leather across her breasts barely covering them, had her submissive tied up with ropes which hung from the ceiling.

The young man was bound by his arms and legs, which were spread wide. A ball gag was in his mouth and he was completely naked. His genitals hung between his legs, but not freely. They too were bound in what appeared to be clamp of some sort. His Madam was behind him and spanking him with a small whip that had several tails.

The customers in the crowd watching the display were openly fondling themselves, as well as their partners. But what was the most shocking to Dormé, was that the young man who was the center of the attention was smiling broadly. He yelped out occasionally, but he actually seemed to be enjoying himself.

Dormé blushed deeply and looked at Anakin, who was surveying the proceedings seemingly without discomfort.

"I'm sorry." She spoke to him, leaning closely so that he could hear her. "When Padmé and I came here the other night, it was nothing like this. The sex was much more...subtle."

Anakin turned his gaze upon her, immediately focusing upon her eyes. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Brown orbs widened in surprise, bringing a smile to the Padawan's face.

"I was a slave, remember? My mother and I were owned by Gardola the Hutt and often were taken to the palace to serve during Jabba's parties. What happened there was very similar to what's going on here, although Jabba's tastes leaned a bit more toward the masochistic side. I was never more thankful than when Master Jinn won that bet against the Hutts, earned my freedom, and had my mother transferred into the custody of Watto, the junk dealer."

"Masochistic?" 

"Pain, Dormé. Often, Jabba's subjects were tested for their endurance and stamina. They were beaten and bloodied by the end of the night, and rewarded for their entertainment value. The Hutts are quite the sadists. What you're seeing here is relatively mild. You see that whip she's using?"

Dormé looked back to the stage, where the young man flinched as the leather tails came into contact with his testicles.

"That's probably made of the softest suede, and if you'll notice, she's barely striking him."

The young woman observed the demonstration and indeed saw that Anakin was right. However, what Padmé had told her didn't quite match Anakin's words. "The senator told me that Obi-Wan had marks upon him. Red whelps, as if he had truly been beaten."

Concern creased the Padawan's brow, but his eyes softened quickly. "Some people enjoy it a little more rough. I wouldn't have believed that Master Obi-Wan would be one of those, but maybe he is. The brain's receptors for pain and pleasure are located in the same area, Dormé. One supposedly enhances the other."

"I think I'll pass." Dormé replied as she returned her attention to the crowd, missing her date's sigh and smile of relief.

Thankfully, the stage display was coming to an end and the crowd began to disperse, several partners and small groups disappearing through the double doors on either side of the room. Dormé and Anakin scanned the crowd searching for Obi-Wan, but it was somebody else that caught the young Jedi's attention.

"See that woman with the long orange hair and pale skin?"

Dormé followed Anakin's line of sight to the woman he had pointed out, easily spotting her. She stood out from the crowd with her extremely pale skin tone and shocking bright hair, which flowed down her back, nearly reaching the tight black leather pants she wore. Her hands had long, thin fingers, the left which grasped the end of a silver chain, and the other held the handle of a whip. A whip with a blue tip. 

"Anakin! That's the woman who's been beating your Master! Padmé and I saw her the other night with him after he performed on stage, and then Padmé saw her again the following night."

The Jedi Padawan observed the dominatrix closely. She was of the Anzarti species. That much he knew, but there was something else about her that bothered the young man, and it was more than the fact that she was leading his Master around by a leash. 

Anakin sifted through his memories, unable to associate her with anyone from his past, but the Force still pricked his mind, and his uneasiness brought him out of his seat.

"Come on." He announced to Dormé, who hesitated only slightly before taking his hand and following him across the club, past the undulating bodies on the dance floor, and the couples stuffed into booths, sweating all over one another.

The young people followed the retreating orange hair as it led Master Kenobi through the double doors and down a carpeted hallway. Holopics lined the walls of the hall and Dormé stared at them as they walked. Highly erotic, each work of art represented a different position for intercourse and she blushed again beneath the mask.

Soon, however, she found her back pressed against the wall, and Anakin's face just a few centimeters from her own.

"Shit." He whispered. "Master Obi-Wan's coming back. If he finds me here, he'll kill me, or make me wish I were dead."

The young man's hood had been drawn the entire evening, but from the concentrated look on Anakin's face, it appeared as if he were trying to hide another part of him. Suddenly, Dormé realized that Anakin was attempting to conceal his anxiety as well. She had heard that Jedi Masters can sense their Padawan's emotions, and if Anakin didn't get control of his, his Master was going to discover him. 

So, she did what she had to do to help him. Shock him out of his worry and distract him from his thoughts.

The kiss indeed surprised the young man, but he recovered quickly, pulling himself tightly against Dormé's leather-clad body, bringing her arms up on either side of her head and pinning her to the wall. Dormé was momentarily stunned herself by the whimper that had escaped her throat as Anakin's tongue crept inside her mouth, sweeping along the ridge of teeth and gums and twirling with the tip of her own. Her hands were released and they immediately latched onto his neck, angling his head to deepen the kiss, and Anakin responded, trying to reach her throat it seemed to steal away her breath as well as her balance.

The release was followed by several nips and delicate kisses until finally, breathing heavily, he propped his forehead upon hers, smiling wickedly. "I...I think he's gone." 

With extreme effort, Dormé pulled her gaze away from those bright blue orbs and glanced to the left of Anakin's body, gasping as she was met with another gaze. Eyes of gray that glared holes through her before disappearing from sight.

"Oh no." She groaned, sinking her head into Anakin's shoulder. Had Obi-Wan recognized them?


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six **

"What is your preference, sir?"

The protocol droid attending the bar came to a stop on the opposite side of where Obi-Wan stood. However, the Jedi barely acknowledged its presence, much less its question. Nor, did he pay much attention to the pressing crowd about him, who occasionally stole conspicuous caresses of an intimate nature.

Too distracting were his thoughts. As well as too disturbing.

_You're a fool, Kenobi. What were you thinking getting interested in a customer? Just do your duty, learn what you need to. Use that knowledge to improve your relationship with your Padawan and call it a night. Getting emotionally involved wasn't part of the plan! _

"A toxic twister." Obi-Wan finally ordered for his Madam who waited patiently back in his reserved room.

_But her touch had been like none he had experienced before. There was feeling behind it, almost as if she knew him, as if they were lovers and she cared for him deeply. How else could someone perform such erotic and comforting gestures and not have any emotional attachment? _

Obi-Wan was surprised to have discovered he had become so hopeful for a repeat performance. The stranger had been on his mind throughout the day and had inspired such lofty hopes. Hopes that she would be here tonight, that she would occupy his time and his body and bring him the pleasure she had the night before. Perhaps, he may even be able to figure out who she was.

However, those hopes had been cruelly dashed by a chance meeting. He was gravely disappointed to discover she was just like the others. Here for one reason -- to experience an anonymous sexual encounter. It had been her in the hallway with that other Jedi. There was no doubt about it. She wore an Incog mask, but those types of disguises were individualized to the wearer. They took on the same appearance each time they were worn.

Numbly, Obi-Wan turned away from the bar and made his way across the dance floor, barely noticing the now-deserted hallway, as well as the sounds of pain and pleasure coming through the doors he passed. He entered into the room marked number twelve and offered the tall, orange-colored drink to his Madam, bowing his head respectfully as he did so.

"That took far too long, my lover. I'm afraid you shall pay for your idleness."

Obi-Wan stiffened slightly before offering his hands for cuffing, knowing what was coming. He was therefore surprised when the long, pale fingers grasped onto his wrists tightly instead.

"Oh no. I'm afraid you're not getting off that easily. Not tonight. Tonight, I have something special planned for us."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't think he'd recognize us. I hope you don't get into any trouble." Dormé stammered as they awaited a transport outside Discretions.

"I'm not so sure he did." Anakin's hand still firmly held onto hers. "You said the mask you're wearing belongs to Senator Amidala?"

"Yes." 

"And that she wore it last night when she came to see my Master?"

Dormé looked at the young man curiously until what he was saying began to sink in. "Oh. Oh!" She covered her mouth with her free hand, her eyes widening with dread. "What have I done? I never thought he would recognize the mask! And he saw me kissing you! Oh, this is terrible!"

"Thanks a lot." Anakin teased.

"You know what I mean. You should've seen his face, Anakin. He was completely crushed. Do you think he's fond of Padmé?"

"Probably would be if he knew it was her."

"That's right. He doesn't know. We need to go back in there and clear things up!" 

The bodyguard's determined retreat back inside the club was stopped by a gentle grip on her shoulder. "And what are you going to say? Sorry, Master Kenobi, your Padawan and I came here to spy on you?"

"Under the circumstances, don't you think he'd understand?"

"Huh uh. You don't know my Master. Let's get you back home and sleep on it. Maybe tomorrow I'll have a chance to talk to him about it."

Anakin pulled his hand away in order to allow Dormé to load onto the waiting transport, but was pleased when she grasped onto his arm as she slid closely to him on the bench they had seated themselves upon. He smiled down at her, disguising his worry.

He knew his Master could take care of himself, but what if he was placed in a position where he couldn't? What if that woman intended to do him harm? According to Dormé, it wouldn't be the first time, and he had seen the evidence of torture on Obi-Wan's face already. It was all part of the game though, wasn't it? A game which had rules -- rules that Obi-Wan apparently knew.

But for some reason, the Force wouldn't leave the young man alone, and continued to prick his conscience about this particular Madam.

Orange hair, tall, thin, pale skin, long fingers, and a tattoo on her left shoulder. 

Anakin studied its design in his mind, desperately trying to remember where he had seen it before, when suddenly a connection was made.

The tattoo reminded him a particular group of people who hung out in the cantinas on Mos Eisley.

"Turn the ship around!" He yelled out suddenly to the pilot.

"I know who that woman is!" He quickly explained to Dormé. "She's a bounty hunter. My Master is in serious trouble!" 

The leather straps that bound his wrists and ankles seemed a bit tighter than usual, Obi-Wan thought, but he didn't complain, and he wasn't worried. The Force was still accessible and he could free himself at any time. All he had to do was maintain his focus, release his pain and frustration into it, and use this experience to learn a lesson that would be of value to him and his apprentice.

But when the first strikes of the laser whip struck his thighs, Obi-Wan let out a grunt. She seemed to be a bit aggressive this evening, even for her.

"Tsk…tsk." He heard in his ear. "It's going to be long night for you….." At the same time she spoke, the Jedi felt the roughness of the Madam's favorite collar go round his neck.

"….Obi-Wan Kenobi." She hissed with vengeance just as the collar was locked into place, thrusting Obi-Wan into whirlwind of vertigo, all of his connection to the Force immediately cut off.

"Before we continue, let me share who has beaten you." The words were breathed along his neck, sending a shiver down Obi-Wan's spine as the harness was tightened, stretching his limbs even further apart, a shoulder joint popping against the strain.

"I'm Aurra Sing, bounty hunter. Hired by Gordola the Hutt. Ah, I see the confusion in your eyes. Perhaps you remember the bet your Master placed on Tatooine? And the way he cheated the Hutts in order to win? The young boy, Anakin, was Gardola's most prized possession, and Qui-Gon Jinn stole him. I was too late to receive the reward on Jinn, but not with you. Dead or alive. Do you understand, Kenobi? Either way doesn't matter to me, but I'm inclined to think you'll be easier to handle dead. I'm just amazed at how simple it was to capture you." 

Each strike of the whip freshened Obi-Wan's pain until his struggle and panic spiked his adrenaline, offering some respite to the worst of the pain, but only for a while. The whip crossed his thighs, buttocks and back, leaving stinging burns with each lash. 

He wasn't sure he could take much more when it suddenly stopped and he took the opportunity to heave in a lungful of air, trying desperately to call out to the Force. He could see her booted feet as they stepped in front of him, but then they disappeared across the purple carpet. However, they returned all too soon, and from her hand hung a heavy club.

"I had planned on taking my time with this, Master Kenobi." The bounty hunter purred, scraping a fingernail across the multitude of burn marks upon Obi-Wan's back, causing him to hiss in agony. "But I'm getting rather bored. Lucky for you, I've decided to end this. I've enjoyed our time together, lover. Tell your Master hello for me."

From the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan saw the club swing toward his head, but he quickly closed his eyes. He really didn't want to see this coming.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part Seven **

_He was swimming. Warm, clear waters with no depth, no surface, but also no fear. There was no need to breathe. The waters were comforting, crystal blue and soothing. It cocooned him its liquid embrace. All was well. Everything would be okay._

Was this the Force?

There was no pain, no acknowledgment of his identity or his life. Just the relaxing ebb and flow surrounding his battered body.

He could stay here forever.

But apparently that was not meant to be.

Unexpectedly, the blue was invaded by red. The vivid color seeping up from beneath, and Obi-Wan struggled to stay away from it. But no matter how far or how quickly he swam, it lurked just beneath him, threatening to consume him. Depleted of his energy, the Jedi Master gave in, sinking into its murky depths, the cool, gel-like substance clinging and filling his senses. He couldn't breathe, needed to breathe.

Panic gripped him and then something else. At first, he fended it off, then recognized its presence. A soothing touch, a light caress. Soft lips pressed against his own. Warmth like an ebbing tide sweeping down his body. He was cold now except for where the touch passed over him.

A twinge of pain shocked his nerve endings, but it was nothing like he had experienced before. Soothing digits swept over the source of that pain, numbing it instantly.

Then those lips again. Ghosting over his forehead as tender caresses eased his aching muscles and joints.

This was no healer. This was someone else entirely. Someone he knew. Someone who knew him. Who cared about him.

Who had touched him this way before. 

Were his eyelids glued together? They didn't seem to want to cooperate. It would be so easy to sink back into that touch. Into that comfort of soothing oblivion, but the voice speaking his name wouldn't allow it. 

She knew his name? Maybe she had done some research. It wasn't like he had chosen to be an anonymous employee of Discretions. 

He had to see her face. Had to confirm the possibility that it truly was her touching him in that same pleasurable way as before. Or maybe he was dreaming. Caught up in the half-waking state of being submerged for too long in bacta.

There was only one way to find out.

The light was too bright, and he heard a muffled command softly spoken to dim them. One more attempt, and there they were. A pair of deep, dark eyes, filled with concern, comfort, and caring. The same gaze he had seen two nights ago. The eyes that had held him as hands stroked him in the bubbling waters of the bath, the same eyes that had sought him out in the hallway while her lips were sealed with another's.

Brows furrowed upon that remembrance and Obi-Wan struggled to focus, widening his vision, stunned to see those soulful eyes set into the face of Senator Padmé Amidala. 

"You?" He voiced quietly, unable to make his throat function properly.

"Sh. You're going to be fine Obi-Wan. Just lie still and let me get the rest of this bacta off you." 

His eyes closed once more. Impossible! The stranger had been Padmé? No, no, no! He argued with himself, but as her hands swept over his chest and abdomen, the evidence of her touch declared the truth. She had left her fingerprints all over him, on his skin, on his soul. It had to be her.

But that would mean - it had to be her in the hallway as well.

"What…what are you doing here?" The words were coming out easier now, as if his voice just needing warming up.

"We can talk about that later." Padmé replied, turning away with a cloth in her hand, but stopped by another hand which gripped her arm.

"No. We'll talk about this now." He didn't mean to be rude, but there were questions to be answered, and he wanted the answers now! 

"Fine." Padmé seemed a bit perturbed herself, tossing the red-stained cloth into the nearby laundry receptacle before taking a seat on a tall stool next to his bed. "Dormé contacted me to tell me that you had been hurt and I rushed over here to see if I could help."

"Dormé? Your bodyguard?" This didn't make any sense. Maybe he had bacta on his brain.

"Yes. She and Anakin had gone to Discretions to check on you. They were worried about you."

"But…how?"

"How did they know you were there?" Padmé interrupted, trying her best to stick to the facts and leave emotion out of this. "Because Dormé and I visited the club merely on a whim the night before and…..we saw you there."

A red tinge swept over Obi-Wan's body that Padmé realized wasn't caused by the bacta, and she lowered her gaze respectfully.

"Wait." Obi-Wan spoke up after a moment. "That would mean…." 

Another pause prompted Padmé to lift her eyes to see a glorious revelation clearing the gray-green depths of Obi-Wan's gaze. 

Just as the healer's ward door slid open and in walked two visitors.

"Master, I see you're awake. I'm most pleased." Anakin stood stiffly on the other side of the bed, displaying his status as an astute Padawan, and announcing his feelings as if he were giving a mission report to the Jedi Council. 

It didn't seem right. But there was something else that didn't seem right. Obi-Wan's eyes wandered down the length of his Padawan's body, following the long sleeve of his cloak, which did not quite hide the fact that his hand gripped that of the pretty, young bodyguard who stood so close beside him.

Another piece of the puzzle slid into place, bringing relief and realizations.

"Ladies? I would like to speak to my Apprentice. Alone, if I may." Obi-Wan said, keeping Anakin's gaze locked onto his own.

Once the women were gone from the room, Obi-Wan reached out his hand, taking the surprised Padawan's in his own.

"I'm afraid I've been neglecting you." He spoke softly.

"No Master. You've been a very good teacher. I have learned much from your training."

"Except for generosity and kindness." Obi-Wan admitted adamantly. "Compassion and love."

"You show those things." Anakin argued back, dropping his head to hide his features.

"Not to you, I haven't. I'm sorry, Anakin. I wanted to be a good Master, but I forgot about being a good friend. I guess I was living by the example I learned from, which is why Master Yoda suggested I gain some insights that would help me. So, I went to Discretions and offered up my body to be used for punishment, pleasure, and torture on occasion, so that I could relate to your childhood. What it meant for you to be a slave, and what it means to you now. And do you know what I discovered?"

"No Master." The youth replied shyly, still hiding his eyes.

"That you are a remarkable young man. I have just tasted part of what you went through on Tatooine, and am utterly amazed that you turned out to be the compassionate and caring Apprentice I see today. I am honored to be your Master."

Quite sheepishly, the sparking blue gaze of the teenage Padawan swept up and met his Master's smiling face. "I am also honored, Master." Anakin matched the glowing expression, which reflected the brightness of the training bond that had suddenly leapt to life, empowered and searching, reaching out to create new and stronger tendrils, filling gaps that had been present, dispelling shadows and doubts, worries and fears, until it tied him to his Master like never before.

"Now." Obi-Wan said with a mischievous grin. "Pull up that stool over there and tell me about this young woman you're seeing."


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Eight **

Pure pleasure. That's what this was. What she offered him.

Not only had Obi-Wan learned during his time at Discretions what a remarkable young man his Padawan was, but he had also learned that there was a fine line between pain and pleasure.

A line that he did not wish to cross again.

This was what pleasure was supposed to be. Accompanied by love, there was no greater gift in the entire Galaxy.

And Padmé seemed content to offer this gift to him time and time again.

Why hadn't he seen that before? Had he truly been so blind not to see what was right in front of his face? The generosity of his Apprentice, and the love of the one woman who, in such a short time, had come to mean so much in his life.

Obi-Wan twirled his fingers through the long curls that lay across his thighs as his erection was worshiped within the heat of Padmé's mouth. He was nearly delirious with the attention she was giving, the occasional suction, followed by the slow, torturous laving of her tongue along his length.

Tortuous yes, but nothing compared to what he had been through. His genitals had been whipped, clamped, and strangled.

But now, here they were being ravished in a completely different way. A way that didn't seem possible. With so much love and devotion, he knew he didn't deserve.

He was being selfish again.

Obi-Wan drew upon her shoulders, his stiffened organ making a popping noise as it escaped Padmé's mouth, pulling the young woman up on top of his body, the curtain of her hair falling on either side of his face. 

"You give too much." He scolded tenderly, thrusting his hardness against her hip.

"I don't give enough." She responded with a kiss and a sigh, inviting him inside. Obi-Wan accepted the invitation, turning them both over so that she lay beneath him, toying with the tongue that had swept into his mouth. 

"Let me give something back." Obi-Wan insisted huskily, scraping his beard gently down her neck, smiling at the shiver he created. A smooth shoulder was suckled, each fingerpad kissed, the pale, tender skin inside her elbow was licked. A breast was caressed, the nipple pinched and twirled, belly button dipped into and pubic area rubbed upon his cheek. Her sighs filled his ears, her buttocks filled his hands, the musky smell of her filled his nostrils, and the taste of Padmé filled his tongue. He found the place that would bring her the most pleasure and focused his attention there. Sucking, nibbling, biting, her hips thrusting up against his face.

"No, no, no, no." She was repeating, and he knew what she wanted, without even asking.

"Sh." Obi-Wan soothed, moving back up along her body, wiping his beard with his hand. "Lie still."

Slender legs were lifted, her breathing harsh and panting, her center moist and welcoming as he claimed her for his own.

And suddenly he was flying. Carrying Padmé along with him, up to where the air was thin and the stars were too numerous to count. Then up into the pitch black of space, spiraling out of control, his thrusts maddeningly powerful, her whimpers of pleasure turning to cries of passion, until the stars went supernova, and they both fell back through space, into the substratosphere of Coruscant, and landed heavily upon Padmé's bed, their bodies heaving for air, dripping with perspiration, the room shining with the brightness of their smiles.

"And you wanted to be just friends." She huffed.

"How was I supposed to know?" Obi-Wan answered back, wearily dragging his body off her, so that she would be comfortable, and chuckling softly when she immediately covered him instead.

"Know what?" The senator prompted and Obi-Wan grinned again at the obviousness of her ploy.

He said he was going to give her more. Here was his opportunity.

Dragging her impossibly closer with his arm, he placed a kiss upon her head. "That with you I'd find the answers I had been seeking. The reason I am what I am, why I do what I do. Why I'm a Jedi. It's all about love Padmé. Anakin's taught me that. You've taught me that. I'll never go back."

"What do you mean you'll never go back?" Padmé lifted herself up on one elbow and stared into Obi-Wan's face. "I was hoping we could visit Discretions again some time. Just you and I."

"No." Obi-Wan laughed outright. "I'm never showing my face in that place again." He laughed again at the disappointment on Padmé's face, hoping she was joking, and then felt relieved as pouting lips turned up into a smile.

"We have a long day tomorrow. The trial for Aurra Sing begins. Perhaps we should get some sleep." The Jedi suggested, pulling up the sheet over their bodies.

"Who said we were finished?"

Confusion knitted Obi-Wan's brows as Padmé reached over the side of the bed. The same brows lifted high however, when she returned, holding onto what appeared to be a very large dildo.

"Padmé! You've got to be kidding!" Obi-Wan sat himself straight up in bed, backing away to the headboard, away from the sultry gaze of the predatory female who was creeping toward him. "There's no way that's going to fit! You're too….petite, darling."

It was the most polite way he could think of putting it. After all, he had experience in such matters. To his relief, Padmé didn't look upset. Just….determined.

Pulling another item from behind her back, Obi-Wan's mouth gaped open. In her other hand she held a small belt with a harness attachment, obviously meant for one purpose.

"Who said this was for me?"

-Fin- 


End file.
